Why Devlin Hates The Cruciatus Curse
by GingeredTea
Summary: A snippet belonging to the "Devlin Potter's Story". Devlin has been kidnapped and is tortured with the Cruciatus Curse by Voldemort. Rated T because it isn't that graphic, but it is torture. One-shot


**A/N: This is just a snippet I wrote so that I could kind of plot out what Devlin must have encountered when he was first kidnapped. It may or may not end up in the story and it may or may not become something more. Right now it's just a snippet I thought you might like to read. **

**For those who haven't read the Devlin Potter series, you should note that Devlin is fairly young (almost five) and is a Werewolf. Have fun. :)  
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_He hit the stone-cold floor with an unpleasant sound; rather the same that his heart had been pounding out for the last hour. Instinct instructs him to keep his head bowed; that he is in no position to act as if he is equal to his captures. Yet, perhaps defiantly, perhaps curiously, he raises his eyes to those he feels boring most into him. They are red, darker then a flame, colder than blood; more, Devlin thinks, like coals that have succumbed to the heat of fire and now glare back, reflecting, holding, onto what had once beaten it. _

_ "Do you know where you are?" His tone is clipped and slightly uninterested; he twirls his wand gracefully across his fingertips, inviting the concern of when, and to whom, it will strike. Regarding the man, Devlin realizes that he had been right to defy instinct; this man dislikes, is disgusted by, weakness. His internal instincts, driven by the amber eyes that lurk behind his green, shift. _

_ "The center of your plots?" His father often speaks of this mans plots, of the round and round way they fly, that they never lead back to its center; never show his father where to find Voldemort._

_ "One could say that." He says, the tip of his lip twitching into a feature that certainly was a smile, yet resembled no smile Dubhán had ever seen, nor that he ever wanted to see again. He continues twirling the wand, though now the movement is more absent than purposeful. "Do you know my name?"_

_ Devlin cannot withhold the feeling of triumph, he knows this mans real name, and maybe, it is the answer he wants but expects Devlin will not know. "Tom Riddle."_

_Those red eyes flicker, the twirling wand stops, the mouth becomes straight and pale; Devlin finds himself looking into the tip of Voldemort's wand like a muggle does a guns barrel. The bullet comes, only this is a magic bullet, and it brings a different kind of pain..."_

**SCENE BREAK - Voldemort POV**

"_Crucio." Voldemort whispers, watching with detached interest as his eyes widen with pain, as his abdomen tightens, threatening to pitch up what is in it, and then, as a resolve settles in him, and his legs lock into position. He will not fall to his knees... _

_"Does it hurt?" He asks, that smile, cruel and filled with something Dubhán cannot name, spreading across his features. _

_He will not answer the man, will not tell him the truth, and will not lie._

__**SCENE BREAK - Devlin POV**__

"_Nothingness is but a moment away... Beg for my mercy; beg for the forgiveness of your father's enemy." He clenches his teeth, so that he can feel the bone crushing into each other, and holds his tongue. He must not be the Omega; he must not show his throat. Pain, unlike his transformations, or the first time he was bitten, overwhelms him, and he finally falls to his knees; but he will not loose that man's gaze, and he will not, must not, answer him. _

"_I can stop the pain." He taunts, flicking the wand so that the spell intensifies. "All you must do is ask." Those red eyes remain firmly clear, yet, around him, all else seems to blur, smudged by the blackness of pain. He has given up on dispelling the pain from his mind: he finds it is the only sensation keeping him from slipping under it, an action, he can sense, that would be deadly. _

"_I wonder what Potter shall think when he sees your body, the mark burned into your arm?" Voldemort's words seem directed at the sole purpose of weakening his defenses; Devlin tries desperately to allow the words to fall past him. "What will he think of himself, letting a four year old be captured right inside his own house?" Even those red eyes are blurring, rocking in and out of focus. "Do you think he will guess my weapon? My tool of choice?" He looks up suddenly, as if he has been reading a speech and is just appraising the audience's reactions. "Come now, you must be as bored as I: scream so we may get this part over with."_

_The temptation is bright, yet it dulls in the end; Dubhán does not want to confront what is next. He can feel something ending, and knows, soon, this spell must ware out..._


End file.
